Always and Forever
by greenovalfruit
Summary: Kelly's behaving strangely and Tracey doesn't have any idea what's the matter. Could this mean the end of their relationship? Or something even more serious... Swearing :: femslash :: T/K :: Review please!
1. Cut me Up :: Cut me Out

"Fuck." Tracey couldn't help smiling as she looked over their closing arguments. Kelly's swearing was surprisingly customary at home. While she kept all but the most frustration induced cussing to herself at work, at their place it was completely different. Tracey stopped and mentally checked herself. At home? Their place? Where did THAT come from? The apartment was Tracey's, of course, but Kelly spent so much time there….still, when did it become their home? She paused in her review of the speech, shaking her head with another a wry smile. Funny the way things change.

"Fuck." Kelly stormed into the kitchen, wrenching open the fridge door and pulling out a bottle of beer. She snapped the top off on the edge of the bar and leaned moodily on the doorframe. Tracey looked up, surprised at the show of temper, her smile falling slowly, replaced by a look of concern. She could see Kelly taking a swig through the space above the bar that looked into the kitchen. She looked like a rain cloud was about to appear above her head and douse her with water.

"Anything wrong?" She queried, looking Kelly over critically. Her partner looked as if she didn't hear her, lost in thoughts of her own. "Kelly?" Tracey drew the name out like she was pulling toffee.

"What?" She looked up, retaining the irritable expression and tone to her voice. Tracey watched her incredulously and Kelly sighed, shaking her head. "Sorry, Trace. I'm just a bit pissed." Her voice had softened back to her regular lilt and she shot Tracey an apologetic smile before taking another drink from the bottle. Tracey stood up, dropping the papers on the coffee table, and walked over to the bar. She sat down on a chair and leaned on her forearms, the concerned look back on her face.

"What's the matter?" Tracey asked, looking Kelly over critically, as if searching for some physical trouble. Kelly glanced up at Tracey, giving her a thoughtless smile and directed her eyes back to the floor. She twisted the bottle in her hands.

"I'm late, is all." She said this looking at the ground, then tossing her blonde head back to take another drink from the half empty bottle. Tracey looked momentarily puzzled.

"Late?" Kelly nodded, scratching at the corner of the label, peeling it off the condensation covered glass. She was still leaning against the doorframe, facing Tracey, one leg out straight in front of her, the other bent at the knee. Her eyes were a blue blur as she looked back up at her partner.

"Yeah. Just a few weeks but… you know how regular I am." Kelly shrugged, eyeing the top drawer under the bar where Tracey's hands rested. She didn't really know why it bothered her so much but it just did. She was a relatively routine person. Not like Tracey, definitely not so much. But organization and timing was certainly a characteristic they shared. This didn't conform to her schedule. And it pissed her off. She felt like kicking something and the fact that she didn't know why made it worse.

"Like clockwork. I plan around your PMS like a review day at work." Tracey smirked, a smirk which tapered off as she looked at Kelly. She wasn't meeting her eyes much, looking at the floor. What's the matter? Oh Christ, have I done something? Tracey thought. Fuck, typical me… Suddenly, a cold chill slid down Tracey's spine like a drop of ice and began to spread through her chest. She couldn't be… No, they were together. A couple. What a stupid thing to think. Kelly shook her head again and took another drink.

"Yeah, it's just strange." Kelly scuffed her bare foot against the kitchen floor, considering her toenails. They needed to be painted. The pearly pink sheen was wearing off, chipped at the edges. She was sincerely thankful for something to look at, tenuously viable a distraction as it was. For some reason, she just didn't feel like looking at Tracey. She felt grumpy and off colour. She hadn't been eating well in the last few days and she'd thrown up that morning. Not that Tracey new. She'd have a fit if she thought Kelly was sick.

"Maybe you've been working too hard, honey. A little time off might do the trick?" Tracey suggested nudgingly, hoping Kelly would respond. As her partner didn't move an inch or say a word, Tracey sighed and continued, "I think you're too stressed. And I don't want you messing up your health just so you can watch me lose my temper with defence attorneys." Tracey dipped her head trying to catch Kelly's eye with a small smile at her self deprecating comment. Kelly did smile but it was a wan, colourless show. Tracey wasn't impressed. Lying still on their bed, not moving except for the occasional blink, she'd heard Kelly coughing up her what was left of her dinner that morning. She'd been worried. She knew Kelly had been off her food and had to be entreated into taking some lasagne the night before. She also knew, however, that Kelly wouldn't like her to fuss by bringing up her nausea, so to speak.

"I'm fine, Tracey. I'm not taking time off." Kelly shifted her weight, her head rolling to the side and back again to stare invariably at the kitchen floor.

"Kelly, I…" Tracey began, trying to get her partner to see sense.

"Tracey, no! How much clearer can I be?" Kelly snapped, looking up at Tracey with fire in her eyes. The older woman was taken aback by this attack, shocked at Kelly's response. What the hell was going on…?

You know Kibre, you know… said a spiteful voice inside her head but she pushed it away. Jesus, this is not the time for self doubting crap. Kelly's with me. Kelly's mine. I'm hers. Shut. Up. Though Kelly's behaviour was confusing, to say the least. Who are you and what have you done with my gorgeous, sweet tempered girlfriend? She wanted to say, but she knew that Kelly would snap again. Quieting her inner dialogue, Tracey's eyes slid away from her partner who was moodily rubbing the back of her neck with one hand.

"Okay." Kelly's eyes looked as hard as granite, staring relentlessly at the opposite side of the door frame. Tracey felt confused and a little hurt. She didn't know what was going on. All certainty about anything within her apartment had been swept out the door. "I'm sorry." She said quietly, looking back at Kelly. The blonde dropped her hand sharply so that it hit her thigh with a slap and she laughed bitterly. Tracey was severely taken aback by the light in her eyes. Never had she seen those beautiful blue eyes seem so cold.

"Sorry? That's not the Tracey Kibre I know." Kelly smiled without any warmth or happiness. She was being cruel, she knew, but it felt good to take it out on Tracey. She didn't know what was happening with her, why she'd been sick or felt irritated all the time. She would become frustrated with the tiniest little things and if anything worse came along, she run to the bathrooms and cry. She felt hideous and out of her body. That was the worst part. She didn't even feel herself anymore. And if tearing strips off Tracey would feed the bitch she seemed to be now, so be it.

"I… I don't know what's up Kelly but I am trying to help." Tracey stammered. She never faltered like that. She was never uncertain, never this confused. This was so out of character, she felt like the world had been turned upside down. She and Kelly usually had no communication problems. If anything, they gave away too much. They knew each others' body language like they knew the alphabet. And yet Tracey didn't know what was going on and why Kelly was behaving this way. She stood up, staying behind the bar. "I know you haven't been eating well lately and I heard you being sick this morning…" Kelly huffed, as if it was the most irrelevant thing in the world. Tracey persisted, "Kelly, if there's anything you want to tell me…" She left a space for the burning blonde to fill in. With words, please with words. But again, that harsh mirthless laughter.

"Oh, right. You're so worried about me, aren't you? I would've thought slimmers disorders were more your thing, Tracey."

That was cold. Tracey flinched as if Kelly had physically slapped her. It'd been more than once that she'd been accused of starving herself, having a problem, because of her small frame. Her mother had told her as a teenager that people were just jealous. Then again, her mother had been digging into a tub of Lo-Fat ice cream at the time, while looking up the points it carried in her diet book. She probably didn't know as much about the matter as she professed to. Tracey had been taken aside countless times by concerned professors, roommates, friends and colleagues to be quizzed on her eating habits and self image. She tired quickly of having to reassure them all. This, Kelly knew. So why she was making such a heartless accusation, Tracey had no idea.

"That's not what I meant… I'm just trying…That's not funny, Kelly." Tracey's voice shook a little, belying the pain she felt and the slowly rising anger. Kelly downed the last of her beer and looked Tracey straight in the eye with a cool unruffled stare that made Tracey shiver.

"It wasn't meant to be." Tracey narrowed her eyes at Kelly, watching her stand there with her arms folded, holding the empty bottle in one hand. She stood unmoving for several seconds and then turned with a disbelieving noise to walk back to the couch. She picked up the typed pages and began to scan the first few lines. But she was angry now.

Kelly turned to the fridge with a calmness that was really not befitting of the situation. Not to the regular Kelly, anyway. But she was long gone. This new, vicious persona was taking over and Kelly didn't know how to fight it. She didn't know where it came from or why it took so much pleasure in hurting Tracey but she didn't actually care. This was Kelly now and she was thirsty for blood.

Pulling the fridge door open with much more restraint than the first time, Kelly selected another bottle from the bottom shelf. Letting the door swing shut, she sauntered around the corner and into the living room. She leaned on the bar and twisted the lid off the bottle with her hand. Tossing the lid onto the counter with a metallic ping, Kelly took a gulp of beer and leaned her hip against the bar, watching Tracey feign concentration when she was truly pissed. She smiled.

"Tracey.."  
"What?" Tracey snapped, an irate, if a little exasperated, look on her face. She didn't seem as angry as Kelly expected, more tired. Kelly noted the papers in her hand were shaking ever so slightly.

"I've never really thought.." Kelly directed her gaze across the room at the half open blinds as if considering some unanswerable question, something really noble and interesting. Tracey cut her off, not in the mood for crap.

"You're pregnant, aren't you?" Kelly looked back at Tracey, her face blank. Tracey studied her for a moment and then laughed humourlessly, very similar to Kelly's mocking refrain from earlier, but aimed bitterly at herself. "I am so fucking blind." She dropped her head and ran her fingers through her curls. "So fucking blind."

"You mean so fucking self assured. Leaping to conclusions, aren't you?" Kelly tossed back disinterestedly, taking another sip of her beer. She was losing equilibrium slowly. Good. I don't think I can take my own bitchiness, she thought. She felt sick of herself, sick of the situation, sick of everything. She just wanted to be left alone with her alcohol to self medicate.

"So you deny it?" Tracey waited a beat, praying in the back of her mind that Kelly would interject with something, anything to fix the situation. When nothing came, Tracey gave in to her urge to fight Kelly. It was a protection, of sorts. "Who is he then?"

Kelly nearly cackled at this, her throaty laugh echoing around the apartment, more like Tracey's than her own. Must be the beer, she thought. Speaking of… she downed the rest of the bottle in one go. Ah, everything was lighter and a little fuzzy. The world is so much easier to deal with when slightly blurred. Lightweight, a voice in her head chided. Still, it had it's advantages.

"Wouldn't you like to know." It just came out. She didn't necessarily mean for it to but it did and now Tracey was staring at her, gaping openly. She sat frozen, looking up at Kelly with shock and a trace of horror imprinted on her face. Kelly admired her handiwork blandly. Very nice. Very… traumatized. A very teenage voice remarked, Cool.

"I…. I'm going." Tracey struggled to move her lips. Her jaw felt locked in one position. Her head felt like it was being constricted by a metal band. The same feeling hit her chest. Her heart. Oh Christ… She hadn't expected that. She'd asked the question but she hadn't expected that answer. It hurt. Suddenly, she was up and off the couch, walking blindly towards the front door. As she pulled her coat off the hook and grabbed her keys from the table, she was dimly aware of Kelly following her. She grasped the door knob and pulled the door open, turning at the threshold. She caught the blue of Kelly's lazy, lightless eyes. Oh god.

"Don't be here when I get back."

Kelly felt a sharp pain in her chest but it was vague, dulled. Like someone else had been stuck with a needle. Not her, not her body. But she felt it nonetheless. All she could do was follow Tracey with her eyes, lingering on her hips, her waist, her breasts covered by a thin red sweater. Her partner's brown eyes that looked blank and in terrible pain at once. How does she do that, she thought slowly, watching Tracey stand there. Kelly raised her empty bottle in a sort of distant farewell toast. Tracey let out a gasp, maybe a sob, and whirled, slamming the door behind her.

Kelly felt like a part of her had gone. But somehow, she didn't care. She shrugged and opened the cupboard next to her deliberately, yanking down a travel bag from the top shelf. Setting the glass bottle with a clink on the hall table, she turned towards the bedroom, lifting the case with one hand. She needed to pack.


	2. Cry and Scream and Shout

Tracey stared at her mug, hands clasped in her lap, unable to move. She felt thoroughly used, at least half broken, dead and alive at the same time. In typical Tracey Kibre style, as she sat in silence, she didn't give away a hint as to what was happening inside her. Only one person could tell when she was upset. The one person who could hurt her this much. The pain was blinding and physical. It felt like a knife wielding maniac had cut her from neck to navel and wrenched her rib cage apart, exposing her beating heart in all it's wounded glory. It hurt. Like hell. And it was all she could do not to start crying again, in the corner booth of the diner.

She had tried to walk down the corridor, force her gait to remain slow and calm, but she broke into a run a few seconds after slamming her door shut. When she reached the end of the hall, she jabbed the button for the elevator while gasping for air, not knowing if it was the sprint or the altercation with Kelly that caused her breathlessness. When the doors finally rolled open, Tracey was relieved to find the elevator empty and stepped into it almost gratefully. As the doors slid closed again, the tears began to fall. She slumped against the mirrored wall, bringing a hand up to her face, touching her forehead with the tips of her fingers. Wave after wave of hurt and pain and anger hit her with the force of a steam train. She gasped and rolled onto her back, gripping the railing that ran around her small sanctuary with both hands. She looked up, trying to slow the trails of agony being traced down her cheeks or maybe searching for some comfort from above, but nothing came. Except more cursed burning tears.

Her body felt like a chalice brimming with the whirling elements of her situation, but she herself could not comprehend it. She was confused; so confused. What had happened? What had she done? What was wrong with her Kelly? Her Kelly. What the fuck was that? she thought, releasing her hold on the railing to lift one hand and brush tears away bitterly. Kelly wasn't hers. Maybe she never was. Tracey didn't want to think about what Kelly had said, what it had meant. She didn't want to consider all the implications. Oh Christ, last night. When she'd held Kelly in bed, trying to comfort her sick girlfriend, was Kelly thinking of her? Was she thinking of… him? Who was he anyway? No, Tracey didn't want to know. She groaned in frustration, dropping her head, dark curls unravelling around her face. Stop. You need to get out of here. Now. She exhaled slowly, focussing on one thing.

Tracey straightened, slowly and disjointedly, to stand tall alone in the elevator. She pressed the button for the ground floor and took a deep breath that hitched in her chest. Outside. Get outside. She closed her eyes and mentally counted down from ten. As she reached 3, the doors pealed open and Tracey's eyes followed suite. She crossed the lobby quickly, hoping not to be spotted by anyone. Thankfully, Paul the doorman seemed to be out getting his mid afternoon Danish and wasn't around to see her tear stained cheeks. Tracey pushed the heavy glass door open and stepped out into the cold. She was momentarily glad that she grabbed her coat but the thought was fleeting, giving way to heavier matters.

Tracey began to walk, not paying any particular attention to the direction he feet were taking her in. She didn't feel the people passing her, she almost didn't feel the late October cold. She just focussed on the movement of her feet against the sidewalk and the pounding of her heart. As long as she thought only on those things, she could keep going. Get as far away from Kelly as possible. Maybe she wouldn't even come back that night. Tracey was paying little attention to where she was going and looked up to see a bus slam it's doors shut and begin to move. As she neared the bus station, the ad on the side of the shelter rolled over from a cup of coffee to a blonde model in a liquid grey silk dress with startlingly blue eyes. Tracey stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk and, like a rock in the centre of a river, the stream of people parted and moved around her. As Tracey's eyes slid up, down and along the picture of the exceptionally beautiful blonde, overwhelmed, she lost control.

Tracey Kibre stood in the middle of the busy sidewalk, crying her eyes out. She couldn't hold back the tears even if she tried. Nor could she bar the sobs that wracked her body. She was falling apart, alone in a sea of people, icy trails frozen down her cheeks but constantly replenished. She didn't care that this wasn't like her. She didn't care that people were watching. She was so far removed from the situation that she hardly realised where she was. Until she felt someone bump into her shoulder. She was dragged back into reality, unfit and unwilling. She didn't bother to wipe her eyes. She just shoved her hands into her pockets and started forward, skirting the bus shelter like a corpse. She walked, eyes to the ground, tears hitting the pavement like solitary raindrops every few metres. Unnoticed by the hundreds of feet wearing into the earth through the concrete sidewalk.

And so she had ended up here. A quiet diner. In the corner with a cup of coffee long gone cold. An hour or more of silent contemplations. She'd hardly moved an inch and had drunk less than a third of her coffee. At first she had been paralysed with the pain and shock. Then the anger. Then the fear. And now finally she felt empty, like her whole body was hollow and only the residue of her feelings were left, drops left on her insides, sliding down, disappearing or frozen there, like the memory of a bad dream. She still hadn't moved but it was not because she couldn't. More because she had no need to. She would just stay there, with her coffee, forever. She would sit and minimise all thought until she'd forgotten why she'd sat there in the first place. As long as she didn't move, the pain wouldn't reappear. Like a knife in her chest.

And so, typically, shattering her fragile walls of quiet resolve and stillness, her phone began to sound. Tracey recognised the message tone and closed her eyes, begging for protection, but the world flooded in again. The sound of Kelly's musical laugh, her smile, her skin, her breasts, her thighs, her whimpers, her moans, her eyes, turning dark, turning hard and then that bitter, soulless laugh. It all flashed in a swirl of memory behind Tracey's eyelids. Her words, her looks, her stance. Her child. Tracey's mind skidded on, across the ice, unable to stop. Kelly's man? Kelly's lover? Kelly's little 5 year old, with blue eyes and blonde hair, with her father's nose maybe and his teeth, running off to school. Tracey cringed at what she couldn't possibly give Kelly. She'd obviously found it somewhere else. She ached. The idea running through her body like mercury. Still, her mind went on, entertaining all the possibilities. Kelly's wedding band. Kelly's wedding. White. In a Church. Catholic, her father giving her away with pride in his eyes at her suitable husband. Kelly making love to her husband. The man who ruined Tracey's life. Who'd sliced her heart in half and she didn't even know his name.

Tracey sighed, lifting her arms from her sides, feeling her shoulders and hips crack at the movement. She dropped her elbows on the table and placed her head in her hands, fingers threaded carefully through her coffee shaded curls. More than once in her life, she had wished she could just switch her brain off. Float away and forget everything. She knew it was stupidity incarnate, to wish away the gifts she had been given, and it frustrated her to think such thoughts but she also craved a reprieve. Now more than ever. She needed a break, something to hide behind, something to lose herself in.

Dropping one hand to the table, Tracey collected her mobile phone from beside the sugar and napkins. Idly, she turned it over in one hand and opened the message. It was from Hector. /I left the reports on your desk. Look them over when you can. Hector/ Tracey dropped the phone back onto the table and groaned. Work. Fuck. She didn't want to think about what was going to happen there. She and Kelly had been together for so long that she'd forgotten all her fears about break ups and the office. Now everything had been brought back to her and she knew she was screwed.

But she hesitated in her cursing. There. There it was. Somewhere to go, something to do. She could bury herself in her work and not only would no one know the difference, she could actually do something useful. Get on with something that mattered. The families of the victims didn't give a crap if she had broken up with her girlfriend. The only comfort they could gather would be from a conviction. Screw the EADA going through emotional hell.

Tracey made a decision. She lifted her head from it's resting place in her hand and picked up her mobile phone, shoving it into her coat pocket. She pulled a few dollar bills from her other pocket and dropped them beside her cold coffee. Scooting out of the booth, Tracey allowed her joints to crack and groan for a moment before leaving the diner at a steady pace. Checking the sign above her head on the street, Tracey calculated that she was only a shortish walk from the office. Nodding quietly to herself, she started down the street, searching for salvation.

* * *

Tracey settled in behind her desk, coat hung up and mobile off. She'd thought about the files Hector had left all the way into the DA's office and now they were in front of her, she felt a certain, slight satisfaction. Someone needed her. Inside, her chest tightened. Even if Kelly didn't.

She flipped open the first file, uncapping a blue pen, ready to write notes. As she began to read, she felt herself gratefully slipping into her working self. Focussed, calm, considering all possibilities. Somehow, she couldn't apply this to her personal life. Not fully. She let her emotions get the better of her. She was a fiery woman, she couldn't help it, though she thought she should be able to. She could with some partners. With some relationships. But she found that it was these that didn't matter so much to her. And Kelly mattered.

So Tracey sat behind the desk, reading and making notes, protecting herself quietly and deliberately from what she truly cared about.

* * *

She stretched, hands high above her head, fingers laced together. She'd just finished going through Hector's reports and was happy with the leads he'd found. They still had closing statements to make on their last case but work often overlapped at the DA's office. They had to be on the ball.

Tracey twisted in her seat, stretching her stiff muscles. She'd just spent at least an hour thinking about something other than Kelly. She was dimly aware of the fact but she didn't want to bring it to the forefront of her mind, not while it was still veiled by details of the new case. She heard someone come though the doors to the bullpen. Maybe she could get Hector or Chris to follow some things up now. Tracey slid quickly out of her chair, grabbing the reports and went to the door to her office. She swung her head around the corner and stopped suddenly, seeing Kelly standing there amongst the detectives' desks.

"I thought you were Hector." Tracey said shortly, her grip on the doorframe tightening just a little. Kelly shrugged, removing her coat and folding it over Ravell's chair.

"I sent you a text asking if you'd be here. Your phone must have been off." Tracey moved back into her office, trying to block out everything that was coming back to her, destroying her sense of control. Couldn't call, could you? Sound of my voice a little too much for you, Kelly? She dropped the files onto her desk and cursed mentally as she heard Kelly follow her.

"What makes you think I want to talk to you, Kelly?" Tracey said, prickly and self protecting. She kept her eyes to the desk, her gaze sliding over her half full inbox, open files, witness statements and an empty coffee mug. I should fill that, she thought. What a strange thing to think… Tracey's inner voices quarrelled over her choice of words.

"I'm just getting some work. I need something to do at my parents' place." Kelly gave Tracey a lingering stare before beginning to sift through the folders on her desk, extracting one every so often. Tracey sat down behind her own desk, keeping her eyes low. She didn't want to smell, see or hear Kelly. She didn't want to trigger any other memory landslides in her mind. She heard Kelly shuffle the files together and tap them on the desk.

"I've got what I came for." Kelly's voice rung through Tracey's mind like a crash of cymbals and a flash of anger lit in her chest. What a snide, pathetic thing to say. What the fuck have I done? What did I do to deserve this? Tracey felt the rise of hot rage in her throat and looked up at Kelly sharply, poison in her eyes as well as her mind.

"How dare you! How dare you walk into this office and treat me like this?" Tracey snarled, eyes flashing. Kelly stood still, holding her files flat, watching Tracey with a dim satisfaction. She seemed to have been expecting this. Tracey was furious at herself for rising to the bait Kelly set but she was beyond the point of logical self control.

"Problem?" Kelly replied, stonily cold as she had been hours earlier in Tracey's apartment. She didn't question the return of her sadistic demeanour. It felt natural, to be the confident bitch finally. She'd left that to Tracey in almost every situation until now. And it felt like she had some sort of armour on made of negative body language and cruel words. She could see clearly why this appealed to Tracey, especially in court.

"Don't play dumb with me, Kelly. I made you. I know your mind like my own. Don't think you can convince me you are innocent in this!" Tracey spat the words out. They left a bitter taste in her mouth, like pure cocoa powder. She lowered her voice dangerously, hands on the desk palms down, pressing hard into the papered surface. "You're anything but innocent."

Kelly scrutinised Tracey for a moment, assessing the tiny brunette filled with fury. She could see her pulse jump at her collarbone, she could sense the tension in her neck and hands. Kelly thought for a moment, where she should take this. On the one hand, toying with Tracey and destroying the semblance of a working relationship that could potentially remain after this was tempting. On the other, her weak, crying alter ego lay broken on the floor of her mind, begging for some sort of sanity. She entertained the idea coldly, masking the pain inside. It did hurt. Just not as much as she expected.

"You don't know me. You don't know what I am." The words echoed through Tracey's soul and, had she not been sitting down, she might have staggered from their impact. They sounded dead, like Kelly wasn't really talking. A whisper of a ghost in the room. But Tracey's anger remained and refused to be quelled by a few obviously well chosen words from the deceitful blonde.

"You're fucking right I don't! What the hell is wrong with you Kelly?" Tracey stood then, her voice loud and unchecked, glaring into the semi detached sapphires of Kelly's eyes. "Why would you go off with some man? When we were happy…" Tracey trailed off, dropping her voice to stare accusatorily at Kelly, holding her files. Tracey was locking away all the pain and defending the vault with her anger. It was working. But at a price she didn't want to consider.

"You were happy, Tracey." Kelly said this evenly, if a little softly, and looked down, pulling the files she held to her chest. She could feel her resentment fading and she suddenly felt very tired. She lifted a hand to rub her forehead and blinked slowly, trying to regain her focus. She had felt so confident, so alive in her actions a few seconds ago. Now she just felt depleted. But still vaguely ill, like she had for the last few days. She reached for the anger that fuelled her but she couldn't find any.

"Kelly, if this is about the baby…" Tracey began, a sudden wave of sympathy for her partner catching her off guard. Anger aside, she loved Kelly. And it hurt her every time she'd mentioned having a family or her brother's kids. Tracey hated the fact that she couldn't give Kelly what she wanted. Though Kelly had never said outright that she wanted kids or blamed Tracey in any way, she knew it was something she'd always expected. Especially considering her background. And Kelly was just a loving person. It was natural for her to want a child to nurture and protect. Tracey just didn't want to believe that she'd be so desperate as to get pregnant by some unknown male. She didn't even want to entertain the possibility that Kelly had actually fallen in love with someone else. But it seemed she had. And that's what hurt the most; not being betrayed but the thought of losing Kelly. It was an anxious, persistent pain that Tracey had dealt with all day. "If this is about you having children… I'm sorry. I am."

Kelly sighed and immediately regretted expelling so much air in one breath. She felt dizzy. Maybe she should sit… she slid into her chair, holding the files in one hand on her lap. Her eyelids fluttered shut and she took a deep breath, shaking her head lightly. Oh God… shouldn't have done that. She could feel Tracey's eyes on her, filled with concern. The hostility still hung in the room and it was that that prompted Kelly to confess her earlier, irrational implications. It was just so hard to swim through the fog of her mind. She sighed again, slowly, wondering what on earth possessed her to tell such a lie earlier.

"There is no baby. Tracey, I'm not pregnant.

* * *

The silence was deafening. It felt as though the whole room had been falling through space and had suddenly crashed flat onto bedrock. Tracey stopped breathing. She didn't move. Didn't blink. Didn't give any indication that she'd heard Kelly's confession. Her body stayed standing as still as a marble statue but her mind was racing. Kelly isn't pregnant? She repeated in her head. Kelly's not pregnant. Wait, that doesn't make sense. Back up. She isn't pregnant. Hold on…. What? If she isn't pregnant then…. What the hell has been going on? Tracey stood, dumbfounded. Does that mean Kelly's not with someone else? If she's not pregnant… maybe, maybe she still loves me? Tracey's heart skipped several beats and she had to remind herself to breathe.

"I'm sorry, Trace. I'm … sorry." Kelly looked down into her lap, studying the blank manila folders. She had no idea what she could say or do to make it better. She'd lied. So pointlessly, that she could now see. What in God's name I was /I the point in letting Tracey think she'd cheated on her? With some anonymous man. And gotten herself pregnant! She couldn't understand why she would think it was a good idea. Now she had to see that look of confusion, pain and anger scratched ruthlessly into Tracey's fine features all over again.

"You aren't pregnant." Tracey looked over at Kelly, slumped in her chair, eyes filled with regret. She felt as if the pressure in her head had just shot up and a slowly throbbing pain started at the base of her skull. Her eyes burned and her throat ached with a repressed sob, an anguished cry. She had been lied to, beaten and abused, pushed around and trodden on. She'd been battered with every single kind of hurt she could imagine from the one person she truly loved. Not that she'd admit it, not to anyone but Kelly while she slept in her arms.

But her walls had come crashing down and her naked soul had been slashed to ribbons. Something inside her snapped. She couldn't take any more.

"Go." Kelly was taken aback by the single soft syllable that escaped Tracey's lips. She expected fiery invectives, violent rage, screaming like an angry wild cat. The silence, the subtle shift in Tracey's body language, the drop of her shoulders, the lowered eyelids. This was not a reaction characteristic of Tracey Kibre. Kelly shook off her fatigue and dizziness to stand, facing Tracey, wanting to explain.

"Oh… Tracey, I didn't mean for this to.." Tracey looked up and the aspect of her eye scared Kelly so much that she caught her breath and swallowed her words. The intensity of the pain and anger fixed in her shadowed eyes was far more than Kelly expected. She didn't think the wounds she'd inflicted were that deep. But she could see with stark clarity that she had done some irreparable damage.

"Kelly…" Tracey's voice was a low warning, threatening thunder rumbling up through her throat. She was only just holding it together. Not even that. One invisible thread of control remained inside her. It wasn't going to hold.

"Please, Tracey… I'm not…" Kelly took half a step forward, overcome by the need to set things right., trying in vain to explain away the hurt in her partners eyes. And the gates of Hell opened.

"GET AWAY FROM ME!" Tracey screamed, fixing her eyes on Kelly, body wound tight with rage. Kelly backed away, barely keeping hold of the reports in her hand. Tracey's curls shook with fury as did her fists by her sides. Her chest was heaving as if she'd run a marathon and her jaw was set, tension through every joint, muscle and tendon in her body. She blazed with anger, feral and desperate and burning.

"GET OUT!"

Kelly took one last shocked glance at Tracey, torn between the almost regular urge to try and alleviate her partners obvious distress and the cold hard fact that she was the last person to do it, before turning shakily to leave the office. Fighting off her light headedness and a wave of nausea, Kelly grabbed her coat and almost stumbled into the hall. She was hurting and guilty but all she could think of was finding a place to crash. She'd leave the burning until later.

* * *

Tracey broke down. She crumpled, tears freeing themselves from behind her eyes, bent double over her desk. She shook uncontrollably, sobs wracking her thin body, pulling the breath from her lungs. Anguished wails were ripped from her throat, cries that were pure torture. Filled with Pain. Anger. Regret. Loss. Tracey dug her nails in the skin of her neck and scalp, searching for a feeling, a distraction. She clawed at her grief, leaving trails of red down pale white skin. Waves of emotion crashed over her, pushing her down and pulling her up again, only to be beaten by her own conscience berating her incredible gullibility.

Throwing her head back, hands tangled in her wild dark hair, Tracey screamed her pain like a savage, wounded beast and collapsed once more, into her chair, sobbing hysterically. She'd never felt so undone, never felt so cold and alone. Tracey Kibre had never been lost like this before. Adrift in a tempest ridden sea. The tears ran fiercely down her cheeks and she forced the promise through her screaming black hole of chaos. She forced the words through her scarlet haze, printing them on her heart.

Never again.


	3. Just Walk Away

Three days passed and Tracey sat on her couch in her apartment filled with darkness, watching the rain slide down the window. Each drop shon with the radiance of the city, blinking as cars passed and glowing from the constant street lighting. Tracey was curled into the corner of the couch, feet underneath her, head propped up on one hand. Her normally vibrant curls fell about her pale face lank and dull, mirroring the condition of her heart and mind, framing the lost look that graced her features. For three days she'd been nursing a broken heart, trying to put herself back together each night in the safety of her apartment, and for three days, it was smashed to pieces every morning when she saw Kelly, heard her name or caught the scent of her perfume lingering in their office. She wasn't just hurt. She was angry, frustrated, tired. Tracey would cry but she had no tears left inside her. And the city seemed to be doing well enough by itself.

The morning after their painful exchanges, Tracey had been reluctant to even go in to work. She didn't want to face Kelly. She didn't want the awkward moments, the humiliation of anyone else figuring out what was separating the winning team. She didn't want to hear any more lies. She didn't want to know what Kelly was planning for her next. She'd spent most of the previous night crying in their office, letting the hurt play out in her shaking body. She'd collapsed onto the couch after an attempt at leaving, fresh tears springing to her eyes and new pain slashing across her heart. She laid there sobbing until her throat gave out and she grieved in silence.

At around 12:30 am, she pulled herself together enough to slip on her coat, wipe away her tears and go home. After a short taxi ride filled with tension that only she felt, Tracey unlocked the door to her apartment, praying faintly to find it empty and devoid of any trace of Kelly. It seemed that God was on her side as Kelly was nowhere to be found and Tracey opened the closet door to find her luggage gone. Filled with relief, Tracey hung her coat up on the hook by the door and proceeded to enter the kitchen and locate a bottle of Scotch. Methodically, she selected a glass from the cupboard and poured herself a drink. She gulped it down, enjoying the burn in her throat, a feeling she'd craved since she'd flagged the taxi down outside the office. A burning unassociated with tears. Quickly, she poured another and the alcohol ran down her throat a little smoother than the first. Tracey had continued to empty the bottle until 3 am when she made her way to bed, stumbling down the hall, wincing as she landed on her hip and the scent of Kelly hit her. She fell asleep with tear drops at the corners of her tired eyes.

She had awoken 4 hours later with a headache and a dry throat to the harsh chirp of her alarm clock. She batted at it heavily, amazed she could even manage that, until the piercing noise ceased. She lay there, sprawled on her Queen sized bed in the clothes she had worn the day before, trying to figure out what to do.

She decided, against her better judgement, that she'd have to drag herself out of her alcohol induced haze and face the day. Tracey Kibre did not take a sick day for a hangover, much less some office dispute. Because that was all it was to the rest of her colleagues working for the DA. No one knew that it went much deeper between Kelly and herself than the outwardly visible. Well, maybe not. They weren't always subtle. Several times, they'd had to hastily reorganise and replace items of clothing and return to their desks, scanning documents or sipping coffee, before granting entrance to Salazar or Ravell and one time, Branch. Remembering Kelly's hand slip out from under her skirt, the blonde winking at her before taking a file from the intoxicated ADAs inbox, feeling empty without Kelly's touch, Tracey shuddered and hauled herself out of bed. No reminiscing, Kibre.

Tracey moaned as she moved into the bathroom and flipped the lights on. Damn… the whisky had really done a number on her. Her head beat an unsteady but constant rhythm and it honestly felt like the world had caved in on top of her skull. Keeping her eyes only half open, Tracey crossed the bathroom to turn on the hot water in her shower. As steam filled the room, the tiny brunette pulled off her red sweater and dark slacks, making short work of each layer, and stepped into the shower recess. She gasped loudly and groaned as the hot spray lashed her body. Tracking the waters constant, changing path down her body, Tracey began to feel a little more human.

Twenty minutes later, she was dried, dressed and half way through her first cup of coffee. Usually her coffee machine at home was purely for use late at night when she was working. This morning, Tracey was determined to be on top of her game from the moment she entered the DAs office. While inside she was still bleeding, Tracey knew that she had to at least appear calm and in control. For herself, for her team … even for Kelly, she thought. Checking her watch, Tracey gulped down the last of her coffee and took a deep breath, walking to her hall mirror. She checked her reflection once more, casting a discerning eye over her neatly tamed curls and flawless make up. Only just satisfied with what she saw, Tracey blinked once and turned to pull on her coat, brushing her ringlets over her collar with one hand. Scraping her keys across the hall table, the small brunette bent to gasp the handle of her briefcase and felt her shoulder groan with the effort of lifting the slight weight upwards. No matter how professional and everyday she looked, Tracey thought, her joints sure as hell remembered the half bottle of Scotch that still trickled languidly through her system, toxic to the last. Tracey almost swore off alcohol then and there, leaving her apartment. But she knew that surviving the next few days, weeks, months… required some sort of self medication.

Thirty minutes later, Tracey stepped through the swinging doors to the bull pen and glanced quickly around, releasing the air she held in her lungs in relief, not seeing a single blonde head amongst her subordinates. Gathering herself, she walked brusquely to her office door, slipping off her coat and hanging it just inside the doorway. Tracey swung her briefcase onto her desk and scanned Kelly's for a sign that she'd been in already. There was nothing out of place, nothing that wasn't there last night. She cringed inwardly at the memory of her screaming tears, the slicing hurt filled hours she'd spent in the office that night. Her head started to thump the familiar, unsteady rhythm against her temples. Making a disgusted noise and lifting one hand to push her palm against her head, Tracey picked up her white mug and left to get coffee.

"Hey Tracey!" The tiny EADA twisted her neck a little too sharply and mentally berated herself, not outwardly showing any discomfort. Tough as nails. Blinking several times and reminding herself to just I look /I like she was going at a regular speed, Tracey continued towards the coffee machine, followed by a cheerfully strident Hector. "Have you seen Kelly this morning? She's meant to be meeting a witness with me." Tracey slammed her mug down on the counter and Salazar checked himself at her forcefulness. She paused a moment and picked up the pot, pouring the steaming dark liquid into her abused mug.

"No, I haven't seen her." Tracey glanced and Hector and caught his confused expression. Sighing, she turned and began to head back to her office. "Have you checked her mobile?" Hector followed her, keeping just behind her, like a puppy dog. Tracey forced herself to be civil. She was liable to shout at someone who mentioned Kelly too much in conversation. She was trying to avoid the issue and Hector wasn't helping.

"No. I'll try her now." He stopped at her office door as Tracey moved ahead, circling her desk and dropping into her chair. She took a moment to contemplate the darkness of her drink before swallowing a scalding mouthful down. It was bitter and tasted awful. This was why she went out for coffee. Gloomily, she congratulated herself on not thinking of Kelly for a whole ten seconds. A useless exercise.

"She's running a little late. I'm gonna pick her up at her apartment. We won't be back till around lunch. Is that ok?" Hector swung around the door and paused, eying Tracey cautiously. She looked up at him, considering an answer. The whole morning. She'd been granted at least four hours grace. Thank God. She closed her eyes for a moment, sending up her prayer. She opened them and gave Hector a curt nod.

"Fine. I'll expect that revised statement by 3 pm." Hector nodded in return and left the office. Tracey sighed and swallowed half of her remaining coffee, ignoring the taste and the temperature. She was being an ogre. And surprisingly, she did care. The fact that she was an emotional train wreck didn't seem to erase her sense of duty towards her team. She was happy she spoke to Hector, though. Ravell was likely to make a smart ass remark and she really would have snapped then.

She placed her coffee carefully next to a photo of the victim of their latest defendant, the teacher of a bright 17 year old boy with blue eyes and dark hair that had been bludgeoned to death in an alley behind a games arcade and now stood smiling for the camera on Tracey's desk. Looking at the photo, she felt that resolve that came with the fight for justice well up inside of her, not pushing her other emotions aside but dominating them, using them. Determined to make her difference, Tracey reached for her legal pad and a black biro, screening images of far more familiar blue eyes from her mind.

Sighing, Tracey leaned back in her chair, scanning the formerly neat desk now strewn with witness statements, evidence logs, photos and financial records as well as pages and pages of her own, neat script. Mess, she thought with tight, quick smile, wasn't always bad. Not when she was moving that fast. Tracey craned her neck forward, back and then side to side, ignoring the somewhat ugly cracking sounds. She then gathered up a few select papers, picking some out from piles and others from beneath her long empty coffee mug. Shuffling them and tapping the pile squarely on the edge of the desk, she stood and went to grab her coat. She had decided early in the morning that she would not be present when Kelly returned that afternoon. She knew it was childish to avoid her partner, delay the inevitable, but she had a wounded heart to protect and if she didn't save herself, no one else would. No, she couldn't handle seeing Kelly. Not today.

Patting her coat pocket to check she had her wallet, Tracey left her office and walked quickly across the bull pen to Branch's door. Tapping twice, she waited for the gruff "Come in." before pushing the door open. The DA sat behind his oak desk, his reading glasses on, peering over a typed sheet of paper. He looked up as Tracey entered, acknowledging her presence, and his eyes returned back to the page. Tracey was used to think sort of offhand treatment and leaned forward to drop the pile of pages neatly in front of her large, Southern superior.

"These are my notes on the Friar case. There's the few solid leads we have with documentation, a sheet of discrepancies Salazar and Ravell need to review and the front page is just an overview of our starting position." Tracey listed the documents she'd just handed over to Branch. He looked up again, an amused glint in his eye and gestured to the pile of paper.

"And if you skip every second word it's a letter of resignation and a suicide note?" She cocked an eyebrow in a very unamused manner, vaguely recognising the reference to an old comedy show that played reruns at 11 on cable. She chose to ignore the display of humour Branch had blessed her with, obviously rather proud of himself, and continued.

"The last page is a list of references I need Kelly to look up when she gets back. Cases we could cite, legal subclauses … could you give it to her when she comes in?" Branch frowned. He'd never known Tracey to ask him to correspond with any of her staff for her, especially Kelly. She always seemed to go to particular trouble to keep in close contact with her partner.

"Why can't you give it to her?" He asked, giving an annoyed edge to his voice. He found that if he flustered whoever he was talking with enough, they would get straight to the point. Embarrass them a little, make them feel slow. It wasn't a nice tactic but it worked. Hell, he was DA, wasn't he? But Tracey Kibre was no ordinary civil servant or scumbag defence lawyer. She didn't bat an eyelid at the tone of his voice.

"I'm going out. I need to check a few things with Homicide, return some files and ask some questions. The usual. I'll grab some lunch on the way." She shrugged, her tone casual and vaguely final, as if there was nothing more he needed to know and could she go now please? She added the lunch comment because she knew Branch had a tendency to worry about her working too hard, forgetting meals, sleep, things like that. He really was a big softy inside. She wouldn't tell, though.

"Make sure you do, Ms Kibre." Branch warned, looking at her over his glasses. Pausing for a moment, he nodded towards the stack of papers. "I'll give it to her." Tracey gave a small, thankful smile, grateful he hadn't asked further questions. She could feel that he knew more than he said about her and Kelly. Not about their relationship outside of work but just about their partnership in general. She'd never worked as well with another ADA and he could tell. He wasn't always an insensitive ass.

"Thanks." She turned on her heel and left the office, closing the door behind her. Branch's eyes stayed on the glass pane of the door for a moment before turning back to his reading.

As Tracey stepped out of the state's record department, she looked both ways before turning right into the street, allowing herself to be swept along the pavement by the swarming pedestrians. The swell of people wrapped in their scarves and coats were agitated by the wind that had blown up and moved quickly, paths crossed and jerking. Tracey didn't notice. She was contemplating the complete idiocy of the Homicide detectives. Their cataloguing of evidence was so shoddy that she'd be surprised if anything made it into court. She would never be able to build a case on what they had given her. And that evidence were her best chance… She'd need some extra time for Salazar and Ravell to come up with something new.

Being pushed along the street by the people around her, Tracey felt her stomach growl it's displeasure. When she'd left Branch's office, she hadn't felt much like eating. She couldn't decide whether it was the liquor she'd consumed less than 12 hours ago or the idea of seeing Kelly that day. She'd been overwhelmed by the thought earlier, consumed with an ache somewhat greater than her fear of further conflict, and now felt the anxiety creep up upon her once again. The courage the whisky gave her, the brief resolve, had disappeared as soon as she had left her apartment that morning. She had no desire to see Kelly again. Not even the regular urge that came like an addict's need to score, that feeling that tugged at her stomach, naturally, constantly searching for Kelly's presence. Even that had gone.

Now all Tracey felt was hunger. She looked up, registering her surroundings and noticed the fiery red neon of the Krispy Kremes sign half a block away. Shrugging, she pushed through the slowing tide of people and made her way to the door, pulling it open with one hand. Immediately enjoying the relief of the indoor heating, Tracey scanned the shelves. Confronted by so many choices and a growing line behind her, the small brunette stepped up to the counter after the young man before her grabbed his bags and left. Hesitating a moment, a little slower than usual, she ordered a plain doughnut with chocolate icing. As the smiling girl with her red hair in a pony tail placed the bag on the counter, Tracey handed the money over and picked up the sugary snack, skirting the other customers as she pushed the glass doors open.

Out in the cold, with the blistering wind tugging at her coat, she turned quickly down the street as she pulled the iced confection out of its bag. Startlingly hungry, Tracey bit into it, savouring the sweet taste and the give of the dough beneath her teeth. She finished the saccharine lunch in under a minute, feeling full and satisfied. Not seeing a trash can anywhere, the brunette balled the bag in one fist and shoved it into her coat pocket. Looking up at the building she was passing and not recognising it, Tracey stepped to the curb and hailed a taxi. A yellow cab screeched across one lane and stopped beside her. She wrenched the back door open and dropped onto the seat, slamming it behind her. Tracey dictated the address of the DAs office, on autopilot, and leaned back into the seat. She could still taste a certain sweetness in her mouth. As her thoughts wandered to who she might meet back at the office, the taste on her tongue turned sour.

Tracey entered the bull pen to find it completely empty. A Spanish cleaner named Marie exited Branch's office as she passed. She was older than Tracey and had laugh lines on her bronzed face. She smiled at the tense ADA and greeted her with a lyrical 'Hola' and a wave. Tracey smiled back, always touched by this woman's friendliness, and nodded her greetings back.

"Hola, Marie." The cleaner smiled again and pulled her trolley from Branch's office, crossing the bull pen and pushed the doors open. Tracey continued into her office, feeling a little lighter after the encounter. She spoke with Marie in her stilted Spanish whenever she stayed late at work and enjoyed listening to her playful laugh and jokes at Tracey's attempts at linguistic grace. She was a truly simple, happy person. Today especially, Tracey was grateful that she knew her.

It was a little after 5 pm and no one was left in the office. This surprised Tracey somewhat but she didn't have the energy to wonder why. She was just happy that she was spared the sight of Kelly for a whole day. It was miraculous, really. Incredible. God must have been on her side, she thought, checking her desk for notes left by her team. There were a few typed pages crossed with Kelly's neat script in corners and margines. Tracey leafed through the pages, stopping at the last, her eyes catching several notes crossed out and scrawled across the page. The writing was shaky and faulted, not like Kelly's at all. In fact, it looked like that last page had been written by someone else entirely. Tracey frowned and dropped the sheets of paper back onto her desk. Whatever it was, Kelly wasn't her problem any more. Kelly's work was her responsibility. Nothing more.

The next day was much the same. Tracey came in, dreading the sight of her ex-girlfriend, and was relieved to find her out with Ravell this time. Sparing only a moment to wonder if Kelly was avoiding her or simply getting on with her job, Tracey buckled down and worked like she hadn't done since her bar examinations. She attacked two separate defence lawyers over the phone, reducing even the most hardened of the briefs to jelly with her ferocious arguments. Branch passed her office as one of those calls ended and retreated without saying a word, seeing the state Tracey was in. He was becoming highly suspicious of his senior ADA and also of her partner whom he had seen the day before looking nervous and scattered, peering around corners as if avoiding someone and snapping at junior aides constantly. He decided to ignore it for the time being, hoping that he was imagining things. He would be extremely displeased if one of the best teams he'd ever had working for him got all cute and broke up. For whatever reason.

At 12:30, when Tracey was just contemplating getting something to eat between rounds with the defence and paperwork, Kelly walked into their office. Tracey sat still in her chair, like a wild animal sensing danger, her eyes trained on Kelly's. Her partner looked haggard; her clothes were immaculate, her blue shirt and slacks clean and straight, but her eyes were tired and she had deep, dark circles underneath them. She stood in the doorway, watching Tracey for a moment before stepping forward. Tracey was sure she had lost more weight. Kelly looked frail and sick, her skin pale and her shirt too big. Tracey felt the old feelings for Kelly well up inside her and nearly voiced her concern to her partner but managed to stop the words before they left her mouth. None of her business.

"We have a suspect to reinterview at Sing Sing." Kelly said quietly, her voice gravely and rasping. She cleared her throat and her eyes fluttered. She breathed deeply for a moment and then looked back to Tracey, still sitting in her chair. The older ADA regarded her for a second, hostility plainly written on her face, mixed with something else.. something less tangible to Kelly. Tracey nodded and stood quickly, picking up her briefcase and heading towards Kelly who stepped aside while her partner grabbed her coat. Kelly followed Tracey out without speaking.

"I don't have time for this, Mr Jameson!" Tracey thumped the metal table with one hand. The man sitting opposite her looked a little alarmed but maintained the slouch and stupid grin that most guys in orange jumpsuits with a cocky lawyer wear. Tracey huffed and shot an accusing glance at Kelly sitting beside her. She'd hardly said a word throughout the interview and nothing in the ride to Sing Sing. Tracey was thoroughly pissed off by the idiot of a masked murderer wannabe in front of her and Kelly wasn't helping. Sickness, or whatever the hell it is, was no excuse for slacking off in an interview.

"Just tell us what you know and maybe the DAs office can cut you a deal." Kelly's soft voice interrupted Tracey's irritable stream of thought. The con looked her over salaciously and licked his lips. His eyes caught on the top button of her shirt.

"How about you cut me a deal, baby?" He drawled, winking in a way that disgusted Tracey nearly as much as the photos of his ex-girlfriend lying on her kitchen floor, her throat slashed. She was about to snap at his brief to shut him up when Kelly leaned forward with a speed that startled Tracey and the prisoner and snaked her arm out to grab his wrist. The lawyer sitting opposite them jumped in alarm.

"Listen to me, you worthless piece of shit. If you don't tell us exactly what you know about Caroline's sister's whereabouts, I will personally see to it that you are placed in a cell with the biggest, most frustrated son of a bitch rapist in the block. And when I say big, I am not just talking about the size of his muscles, you hear me?" Kelly lowered her voice delivering the last of her threat and dug her nails into the perps wrist until he shouted in pain.

"Ok, ok! She's in my apartment. Tied to the bed. She's only been there a couple of days. Fuck, let go of me!"

Only then did she release her grip and lean back in her chair while he nursed his wrist. Stunned, Tracey noticed that Kelly had drawn blood.

"Fucking bitch…" Billy Jameson cursed, glaring daggers at Kelly who sat coolly, if a little silent, in her chair. As his brief began to protest about his client's rights, Tracey recovered enough to stand up, retrieving her briefcase from the floor.

"I think we're done here. Call us when your client has decided to cooperate more fully." Tracey headed for the door, followed by Kelly who seemed a little off balance but still radiated anger. They heard the nearly teenaged whine of Billy's voice and the hushed tones of his defence council as they left the interview room.

In the ride back to the office, neither woman said a word. Kelly looked dog tired, occasionally rubbing her temples but never letting her head drop in front of Tracey. Her partner watched her critically, trying to decide if some sort of action should be taken. She'd called Hector and Chris already to tell them where to find the missing girl and, with that taken care of, was left to study the woman sitting beside her. Kelly was behaving extremely strangely and Tracey couldn't decide if it was helping or hindering their case. She was tempted to ask, if somewhat sarcastically, whether she was alright or not. But she reminded herself that it was none of her business. Kelly was none of her business.

The day after Kelly's attack on their defendant, Tracey came in early to find her partner already at her desk. She hung up her coat and retrieved her coffee mug from her desk without saying a word to Kelly and nothing was said when she returned with a full cup of the black liquid. As Tracey sipped her coffee, she watched Kelly reading something from a plain beige folder. Her partner was leaning her head in her hand and looked as if she was barely staying awake. As Tracey drained the last of her coffee, Kelly closed the file and tossed to over onto Tracey's desk.

"What's this?" The older ADA enquired, flipping the folder open and reading the first few lines of the front page. Kelly blinked heavily and paused before answering.

"It's our new case." She turned back to her desk and pulled out a not pad which she began to write an address on from a sheet of paper propped up in front of her. Tracey looked up sharply, annoyance crossing her face.

"Why didn't you give me this earlier?" She asked, anger evident in her voice. Kelly didn't look up as she wrote, the task seeming laborious and slow. She answered, her voice deliberate and unconcerned.

"You were busy." Tracey glanced at her coffee mug and snorted in disbelief, slapping the file against her desk.

"This is much more important than coffee. Cases come to me first, Kelly." Her partner finished writing and looked up, dismissing Tracey's anger with a shrug. This only pissed her off more. "Don't just shrug at me. I'm your boss, Kelly. Don't forget that!" Kelly stood, ripping the paper f the white writing pad and folding it, creasing it with her nails.

"You are not my boss, Tracey. You don't own me. Stop being such a self righteous bitch." Kelly almost shouted. She turned to grab her coat off the back of her chair and stormed out of the office. Tracey stood, glowering and followed her. As she reached the door, Kelly was already leaving the bull pen. Tracey growled and nearly stamped her foot. That's when she saw Branch standing in his office door. He looked even more irritated than her.

"Ms Kibre, a word." He called to Tracey. She stormed into his office, trying in vain to calm herself down. He may be a Southern prick but calm down, Tracey told herself. She had no desire to be fighting with her boss as well as her partner. But she was still burning with anger.

"I'll be blunt, Tracey." Branch said, closing the door behind him. He rounded his huge oak desk and sat down behind it. He turned his attention to her. "Something is wrong between you and Ms Gaffney, anyone can see. Now I want to know what the hell is affecting our clear up rates. Because the State does not have time for whatever the hell you two are pulling." Tracey sighed in frustration and bit her lip.

"I don't know what you mean, Arthur." Branch snorted and raised his eyebrow.

"The hell you don't! I heard that little exchange you just shared, along with the rest of the staff, and I am not impressed. You should know better. You're the EADA here, Tracey. Set a damn example!" Branch brought his fist down on his desk. Tracey stood shocked. He'd never accused her of not behaving professionally before. She set the standard. And now he was chewing her out for being a bad role model for all the pathetic aides they had running around.

"I haven't done anything wrong here, Arthur! Where do you get off telling me how to behave?" Tracey stormed.

"I am your boss, Ms Kibre. And if you ever want to make it to DA, you'll learn to respect the position. Now, we have a case that needs serious attention and you are behaving atrociously. Kelly has been working herself sick. Is there something you haven't been telling me?" Branch asked, giving Tracey a dangerous look. She narrowed her eyes.

"I don't know what you're implying…"

"Cut the crap, Tracey. Have you opened your eyes and actually looked at your partner in the last few days? She's pale, she's not eating. I don't even think she's sleeping any more. I don't know what you have been doing to her but…" Tracey cut Branch off, enraged that he would try to pin Kelly's state on her.

"Now hold on, Arthur! Kelly's health has nothing to do with me. If she's sick, then she's sick. You think that I've been putting too much pressure on her? If you would stop thinking about your political stance by hiring more female ADAs then…" Branch stood, shouting over Tracey.

"That is it, Tracey! You will not disrespect me any more today. Go home. We need everyone here to be working properly on this case and you are not helping. You need to go home and cool off. Do not come back until you have sorted yourself out!" Tracey was stunned and angry. She stood for a moment in from of the Southern DA, fuming and then turned, opening his office door and slamming it behind her.

That was the morning and now Tracey sat on the couch, still watching the rain. Having time at home, all day to think, the anger had melted away with the rain and now all Tracey could feel was the pain she had been burying in work for three days. She could feel her heart ache and every beat was an effort. She didn't want to think any more. She didn't want to remember. She cursed Branch for the thousandth time for sending her home to think. Damn him.

In the dark of her apartment, the phone rang. The sound was loud and alien. It startled Tracey out of her reverie and she picked up the receiver at the third ring. Before she could answer, she heard Branch's voice, strangely anxious.

"Tracey. Don't talk. It's Kelly. She's collapsed at a crime scene. They've taken her to hospital. Tracey," Branch's voice softened and in her panic, Tracey nearly missed the consideration behind his words, "I thought you should know."


	4. It's ok, Baby :: It's ok

Tracey didn't think. She didn't stop to consider what she was doing, for what reasons she was running out of her apartment, nearly without her coat or keys, into the cold night air. She just slammed her door and ran. The stairs, the lobby, the sidewalk all passed in a blur. She was three blocks away from her apartment, pushing through crowds of people hurrying out of the rain, before she stopped and hailed a cab. Wet and cold, having forgotten to do up the front of her coat, Tracey recited the name of the hospital Branch had given her before she'd hung up and told the driver to hurry. He seemed to get the message from the wild eyed look he caught in the rear view mirror, the slamming of his back door and the erratic movements of his new passenger. He couldn't be sure, as she had been soaked by the rain, but he thought he saw a tear roll down one alabaster cheek.

Within fifteen minutes, the taxi pulled into an ambulance bay of the large hospital and the small brunette ripped a twenty out of her coat pocket, dropping it through the passenger side window onto the seat. The cab driver called his thanks after her but she was already through the front doors, her red coat whipping out of sight.

Tracey was momentarily blinded by the brightness inside the hospital walls. She spun around looking for some sort of indication of where she would find Kelly. She hadn't thought this far ahead. Spotting a nurse scribbling something down behind a counter, Tracey rushed to the station, ignoring the few surprised looks she received from three suits and a kid being wheeled along by a teenager. The nurse looked up at Tracey and smiled slightly, a gesture no doubt intended to instil some calmness in the brunette. Unsuccessfully.

"Kelly Gaffney. She's a District Attorney. She collapsed somewhere… Where is she?" Tracey wasn't as concise as would probably have been helpful but she didn't care. She needed to see Kelly. She needed to make sure she was alright. She needed to be with her. Now. The nurse looked over to her computer and typed something into a search engine. She paused and then turned back to Tracey, looking her over with a mixture of sympathy and caution.

"She's here. She's in ICU. Are you a family member…?" Tracey nearly stamped her foot in frustration, turning her head to look down the corridor. She tried to calm herself, biting her lip and holding back the tears that threatened to give her away. The nurse took in her obvious distress and lifted her hand up onto the counter, encouraging Tracey to talk. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, looking down at the floor. She then refocussed her attention onto the nurse.

"My name is Tracey Kibre. I work at the DA's office. Ms Gaffney is my partner. I need to see her." Tracey stated, only just holding herself together. The nurse nodded, not giving any indication of her understanding of the reference to the working or personal relationship between the two women, and picked up the phone. Tracey took a step back, allowing herself to breathe and taking a moment to collect herself. She didn't listen to the conversation the nurse was having but instead ran her fingers through her wild, rain slicked curls and prayed for intervention. She registered the click of the phone being put down and looked up at the smiling face of the hospital nurse, now devoid of any guardedness at all.

"I just spoke to the administrator. It seems that someone very high up in your office called ahead of you. ICU is on the third floor. Ms Gaffney is in room seven." Tracey exhaled heavily and shot the nurse a very short, very tired smile before heading towards the elevator. She caught it just before the doors closed and jammed her thumb into the button for the third floor. She didn't catch the look she received from the handsome 30 something doctor in his white coat, the other occupant of the lift, but counted the seconds as she waited for the doors to open. She rubbed her forehead with one hand, hoping and wishing and praying that nothing had happened to Kelly, nothing she couldn't fix. She was terrified at what could have got Kelly rushed to hospital. She was a thread away from breaking down right there in the elevator.

The doors slid open and Tracey's neck snapped up to read the silver Intensive Care Unit sign across the hall before stepping out into the corridor. A door to her right was numbered 11 so Tracey twisted to the left and rushed down the hall, skirted by nurses and visitors. Catching sight of room seven, she slowed a little as the door opened and nearly ran into Chris Ravell.

"Whoa! Tracey. There you are. Branch got a hold of you, then." He put out his hands to steady Tracey and as he touched her forearms, he saw she was shaking. The shock on his face turned to concern as he scanned Tracey's wet hair, shaking limbs and frightened eyes. "Hey, are you alright?" Tracey jumped at his touch.

"Of course I'm fine. Why are you here? Where's Kelly?" she demanded. Chris took half a step back, raising his hands but maintaining his concerned expression.

"I was with her when she collapsed. We were checking out a new crime scene. She looked pretty sick but then she just fainted without any warning. She's inside, she's still unconscious…" Chris stepped forwards again as Tracey tried to push past him into the room. "Hey, wait a second.." Tracey shook him off and answered with ferocity belying her stature.

"Get the hell off me!" Chris stepped back, away from the fiery brunette and allowed her entrance to the room. She didn't spare another second on him, instead choosing to push the door open and step into the quiet hospital room. Across from her was a bed and in the bed, looking tiny and frail, was Kelly. She looked like she was sleeping. Someone had changed her work clothes for a hospital gown and she had a drip in her arm that hung high up next to the bed. Tracey stared at her partner, so small and defenceless. She hadn't been there to help her. She'd abandoned her.

Tracey let out a strangled sob and crossed the room to stand next to Kelly's bed. She leaned over and brushed a strand of hair across her face to tuck it behind her ear. Then she took Kelly's pale hand in her own smaller ones and brought it to her lips, kissing the cool skin as tears began to slide down her face.

"I'm sorry, Kelly. I am so, so sorry."

Tracey lost count of the hours she stood there. Doctors and nurses came in and out but none of them questioned her presence. No other visitors entered the room. In the early hours of the morning, the nurse from the front desk came in and persuaded Tracey to sit next to Kelly, as she would not leave the room. She introduced herself as Lena and reassured Tracey that Kelly would be fine. Tracey's responses were limited at best and so Lena left her alone with a coffee that quickly went cold and was forgotten.

All Tracey could think of was how she wasn't there when Kelly collapsed, how had missed the signs of Kelly's illness, how she would not be able to survive if Kelly died. Every time the possibility crossed her mind, she shut her eyes and failed to fight off more hot tears. This was all her fault.

Tracey felt warm and secure and someone was stroking her head gently. Long slim fingers curled through her hair and down her neck over and over. Through the fog of sleep she smiled. Then she remembered where she was.

Tracey's eyes flew open and she sat up, shaking herself awake. She was greeted by the sight of a white hospital room filled with afternoon light but most of all a pale but smiling Kelly. Tracey's eyes raked over her partner, taking in the dark circles under her eyes, the obvious weight loss, the ghostly hue of her skin. But her hair was as golden as the day and her eyes as bright and blue as the sky. Tracey reached her hand not held in Kelly's and touched her cheek, making sure she was real. She watched as Kelly nuzzled her hand and a smile of pure happiness spread across Tracey's tired face, her dark eyes sparkling.

"Hello, sleepyhead. Sweet dreams?" Kelly asked, twisting her head to kiss Tracey's palm. The brunette laughed, throaty with sleep. Her hand dropped to Kelly's lap, brushing the hospital gown the younger woman wore. Tracey noted how it hung on her. God, when did she get this thin? But that shining smile still graced Kelly's face.

"Not as sweet as here and now." Tracey replied. They sat there, Tracey in the plastic chair by Kelly in her hospital bed, and looked at each other for one long moment. Tracey was overtaken by the incredible urge to kiss Kelly, touch her, feel her, reaffirm her existence, her wellbeing and celebrate the fact that she was alive. She had never been so scared in all her life as when she heard Arthur Branch's voice over the phone, saying Kelly was in hospital. Never. And now she had Kelly here, alive, and all she wanted to do was hold her and be as close to her as she possibly could.

But Kelly wasn't hers anymore. Tracey knew that. All her actions thus far had been urgent, rash and ridiculous. The more she thought about it, the more horrified she became. She'd hung up on her boss, run out of her apartment, in the rain, nearly cried in front of the on duty nurse, attacked her colleague and spent countless hours by her partner's bedside. Tracey looked down to find a pale pink blanket had fallen down onto her lap and that her coat had been removed, laid out underneath her. Kelly caught the change in demeanour and nodded towards the blanket.

"When I woke up, you were asleep next to me. I had to go for tests but you looked so tired…" Kelly paused, an anxious look on her face. "Lena, the nurse, said she'd look after you." Tracey nodded once, trying to figure out her position. Kelly was in hospital and she was being taken care of? No, it should be nurses looking after Kelly, not Tracey. And here she was, wanting nothing more than to wrap her arms around Kelly and greet her lips with her own, slowly then fast and then slowly, again and again. But Kelly wasn't hers any longer. She had no right to be thinking those thoughts. Tracey shook her head and removed her small hand from Kelly's.

"Right. Well… how are you?" her voice sounded hollow and Kelly winced at the sound. The looked hurt and a little confused but realisation kicked in. She had no right to treat Tracey like she did. They were no longer a couple. Kelly had seen to that. She thought bitterly of all the pain she had put Tracey through. It took all of her little energy to hold back angry tears. This was all her fault.

"I'm ok. Tired. They took me for a CT scan earlier and took blood samples. I'm kinda dizzy, actually. But that's why they made me sit in a wheel chair for most of it." She smiled a little, hoping to encourage Tracey out of her shell. Her partner didn't take the bait but sat quietly, looking to the floor. Kelly damned her stupidity. But the urge to look after Tracey won out over her own self pity or discipline. "You look dead, Tracey. Why don't you get a coffee? I'll be fine here." The last comment was unnecessary, Kelly realised, as Tracey slowly stood and folded the blanket that had been so carefully draped over her body, dropping it on top of her red coat. She was here as a colleague and maybe, at a stretch, a reluctant friend, driven by a sense of duty. She didn't need the encouragement.

"That's probably a good idea." Tracey replied, a dull monotone softening her voice. She took one lingering, regretful, painful look at Kelly and left the room to search for answers to questions she didn't want to ask.

An hour later, after splashing her face with water in the bathroom and eventually finding a coffee machine worth any money, Tracey walked slowly along the corridor towards Kelly's room. She was so out of herself that she didn't notice Hector and Chris until they stood up in front of her outside Kelly's door. She looked at them both with surprise until she remembered her exchange with Chris the night before. She blushed at the memory. Hector stepped forward, holding his cap in his hands.

"Hey, Tracey. How's Kelly doing?" he asked in his low rasping voice. Tracey pulled out a smile and nodded to him.

"Yeah, she's doing ok. I think." She tried to keep thoughts of Kelly to a low buzz in her mind. Hector shifted a little and returned to his plastic seat in the corridor.

"That's good." he mumbled, toying with the brim of his cap. Tracey's eyes crept across to Chris who stood with his coat still on, hands in pockets and scarf draped around his neck. He watched her carefully. Tracey's shoulders dropped and she shook her head.

"I'm really sorry, Chris. For the way I behaved last night. It was inexcusable.." Tracey began, regretting how she had pushed her colleague (hell, her friend) away the night before. She noted Hector looking studiously away, obviously aware of what had happened to some extent.

"Tracey, it's fine. Really. You don't have to apologise." Chris' soft tones made Tracey look up. His dark eyes were filled with understanding. He was very calmly pulling the father routine and giving her space. She smiled up at him and touched his arm with the hand not holding her coffee.

"I am sorry, though. You helped Kelly. You were there. I had no right to treat you that way." She said with sincerity. Given permission by the contact Tracey initiated, Chris squeezed her upper arm and smiled back at her.

"It's ok. You had your reasons." Tracey gave him a curious look but was interrupted by the door opening beside them and two doctors and a nurse leaving Kelly's room. Tracey looked alarmed and moved into the room quickly, dropping the coffee cup on a table as she went to Kelly. The blonde was sitting up in bed again but out from under the covers, her legs tucked underneath her. Tracey tried to clock how thin she looked as she sat by Kelly, opening her mouth to ask questions.

"What's the matter? Are you ok? What did they say?" It came out it a tumble of concern and Tracey bit her lip as Kelly let a hint of a smile play upon her lips. She tucked her legs further beneath her and shook her head slightly.

"Everything's ok, Tracey. Do you want me to explain?" The brunette simply nodded, concentrating fiercely and bracing herself for whatever Kelly seemed so casual about. Cancer, Heart disease, degenerative disorders all flung themselves through her mind but she kicked them away to clear space for new information.

"I've got something they call Addison's Disease." Kelly paused, gauging Tracey's reaction. Her partner looked ready to say something, her eyes anxious, but Kelly reached for her hand and took it in her own. Unlike before, Tracey did not pull away. "It's a hormonal disorder. They say I've got Secondary Adrenal Deficiency." She stopped again and smiled supportively. "That's more common. Don't worry." Tracey managed a small smile back but her heart was racing.

"There's a hormone… with some long, complicated name that I will never remember," Kelly rolled her eyes and smiled again. "that they called ACTH. It regulates cortisol production. That's another hormone that basically balances all my body's functions. Well, my body isn't producing enough of this ACTH and therefore, not enough cortisol. That's what's been making me sick." She watched Tracey, squeezing her hand. Her partner nodded, a little confused.

"Ok. So why isn't there enough ACTH?" Tracey turned extremely serious. "What's wrong?" Kelly laughed, smiling merrily.

"Calm down, Tracey! Let me finish. This is the not so common part. Apparently, I've got an infection around my pituitary gland, where ACTH comes from, and so it stopped making it. They don't know how it got there. One of the doctors mentioned stress.." Kelly rolled her eyes again and Tracey grinned.

"No!" Tracey said with mock horror. Kelly sighed, still smiling.

"Yeah, not possible an ADA could suffer from stress, of course. Anyway, because of that, I now have a brand new mention for my medical file at work!" Tracey smiled, tongue in cheek, at Kelly's attitude. She leaned forward a little and brushed a stray curl out of her eyes, turning serious once more.

"So… Be serious. What else is there?" Kelly nodded and thought for a moment, smoothing the tape around her drip.

"Well, the Addison's was making me tired and weak. And dizzy; my blood pressure was crap when I came in, apparently. Also why I was nauseous." She paused, looking straight into Tracey's eyes. "It was also why I was so irritable and depressed. Turned me into an angry bitch, didn't it?" Her eyes dropped and she played with her drip again. Tracey's hand stilled hers and she looked back to her partner. Tracey's eyes were deep and dark, filled with emotion Kelly didn't want to guess at.

"So… that wasn't you?" Tracey asked softly, hoping beyond hope for the right answer. A light began to wink at her from the end of the tunnel.

"No! No, it wasn't. It was my brain screwing with me." Kelly's hands closed around Tracey's and she looked at her urgently and sincerely. Tracey caught a sparkle at the edge of Kelly's blue eyes, unshed tears just anchored to her eyelashes. "I would never hurt you like that intentionally, Tracey. I would never cheat on you. I didn't want to hurt you." She looked down again. "I did though." There was a moment of silence before Kelly felt Tracey's hand touch her jaw and raise her chin up until they were looking each other in the eye. One tear slid down Kelly's pale cheek and Tracey lifted a slender finger to brush it away.

"Do you love me, Kelly?" Tracey's low voice rung through the empty room and her eyes begged for the right answer. Begged for this to be the one and only barrier between her and the woman that she loved. The decidedly un-religious one in their relationship, Tracey had been praying an awful lot in the last week. Now more than ever. One more tear slid down Kelly's cheek before she answered.

"Always." Kelly whispered faintly but with all the truth in the world. Tracey looked into Kelly's blue eyes and found heaven, the answer to her prayers. God seemed possible at that moment. An angel had been delivered to her. Tracey's hand cupped Kelly's cheek and she leaned in until she was a breath away from those warm lips.

"Then I'll love you forever." Tracey closed the gap between them and praised the mouth that had torn her apart and stitched her back together. She ran her hand through Kelly's golden hair and felt her partner's tongue skim her lips. Tracey squeezed the hand she held, grateful for the life she felt next to her, beneath her, inside her. Kelly pulled away slowly and rested her forehead against Tracey's. She smiled like a child, the most pure happiness glowing through her pale skin. Tracey kissed her carefully again before standing up, kicking her shoes off and climbing onto the bed next to Kelly. She wrapped her arms around the frail blonde, warm with life and love and blood.

"Now, what are they to do with you, baby?" Tracey asked, kissing Kelly's blonde head. She felt her partner move closer, their bodies fitting perfectly against each other. As Kelly spoke, she could hear Tracey's heart beating.

"They've told me I have to take tablets once a day for the next year, at least. Hydrocortisone. As well as some pills to fight the infection." She tugged lightly on the line into her arm. "This is a saline and dextrose drip. Salt and sugar. Yum." Tracey laughed. "It's meant to fix me up for now." Tracey sighed beneath her and Kelly looked up. "What?" Tracey grinned.

"So, no more mood swings?" Kelly bit her lip and smiled back.

"No more mood swings." Tracey sighed again dramatically and pulled Kelly even closer.

"Thank Christ for that." Tracey felt Kelly smile into her chest. She shifted slightly, hoping to keep Kelly comfortable.

"There is one thing, though…" Kelly trailed off, sliding her hand across Tracey's tummy. The brunette bit back a groan. Make up sex in a hospital bed, Kibre. Not a good idea when two of your detectives are waiting outside the door.

"What, honey?" Kelly exhaled slowly, thinking.

"They said I'd have to carry a card with Addison's Sufferer written on it with my blood type and deficiency number." Kelly paused. "It's so impersonal. Not a name or photo or birthday." They lay there for a moment, both thinking different things. Tracey suddenly leaned down to kiss Kelly's forehead before sliding to the side and dropping out of the hospital bed. Kelly sat up, looking confused. Tracey winked as she slid her shoes on and grabbed her coat.

"I'll be back." Kelly frowned. "Don't worry; you've got visitors to entertain you." As she opened the door, she beckoned Hector and Chris. "Come in, guys." Another secret wink at Kelly and Tracey was gone.

"Hey, my pretzels!" Kelly laughed, grabbing the bowl from Chris. He put up his hands in mock defeat, relinquishing the bowl. Kelly crunched several of the salty snacks triumphantly and poked her tongue out. "I'm the sick one! I'm I allowed /I to eat all this junk." Hector laughed at Kelly's childish display as he looked through the cards attached to each bunch of flowers he passed.

"You sure are popular, Kelly. Look at the ones Branch sent you! And all in under 24 hours." He stopped next to a huge arrangement of pink roses and white lilies. He looked them over critically. "Lilies? He's a little oblivious, isn't he?" Kelly continued to munch her pretzels.

"I though it was sweet." She said, her eyes flitting to the door where a small brunette in a red coat stood smiling brightly. Kelly deposited the bowl on her bedside table and grinned. "Hey stranger." Tracey blushed, entering the room.

"I had to get something." Tracey turned to the guys who stood in silence at the end of Kelly's bed. "Hey, I told that nurse outside that you two would meet her in he cafeteria for a coffee with her friend about…" she checked her watch, "Two minutes ago." Hector looked at Chris and waggled his eyebrows.

"We'll just be downstairs." Both women grinned as the detectives left the room in rather a hurry. Tracey turned back to Kelly, pulling a small box from her coat pocket and placing it on the bed before removing the red garment and draping it over the chair. Kelly eyed the box with some curiosity before Tracey placed it in her hands.

"Open it." Kelly gave Tracey a sly look and pulled off the top of the silver box and removed the gauze wrap. Kelly's eyes went wide as she picked up the thin silver chain that lay coiled in the box and studied the silver name plate attached. Next to the caduceus, the staff with snakes wound around that denotes medical association, was etched writing that made Kelly's heart swell.

_Kelly Gaffney_

_July 7 1968_

_Addison's_

"Tracey, it's beautiful." Kelly whispered turning it over in her hands. On the other side of the plate, in smaller, finer writing was inscribed "Always & Forever" Kelly looked up at Tracey, tears in her eyes. Tracey reached over and pushed a strand of hair behind Kelly's ear, a habit that she had formed early in their relationship and had lasted through everything. "Always?" Kelly asked. Tracey smiled and bent to kiss Kelly's forehead.

"And forever."


End file.
